Solar Flare
by The Wraith of Saganami
Summary: In AC 199, Quatre is overworked and very tired. Taking Trowa's suggestion to visit a friend of his at the Lake House, Quatre finds himself quickly being drawn into a great conspiricy. One which involves a young girl, and will test him greatly. 4 centric
1. Seeds of Discontent

This is the first fic I've written in a while, so if I'm a bit rusty, I apologize for any OOCness. I try to avoid it, but I may be in need of more Quatre researching if it does pop up. Review if you feel it was good. Drop me a message otherwise, if you find any spelling or grammar issues.

Alright, the normal stuff. **Disclaimer!!!!!** I don't own Gundam Wing, or any of the characters from it. Nor do I own any novels or other literary things I may slip in.

* * *

The bright halogen lights burned his exhausted retinas. Pain started at the base of his skull and exploded like a solar flare over his head, ceasing just above his left eye. Quatre Raberba Winner was starting to burn out. The massive piles of paperwork that some inconsiderate imp kept leaving on his desk did not help the situation. 

He rubbed his temples, slightly scolding himself. 'Anne is just doing her job,' he told himself. 'No need to call her an imp.'

Quatre attempted to get back to the mountainous stack of parchment, when he was interrupted by the door opening.

He sighed. "Anne, please don't bring me more paperwork!" he half pleaded, not looking up.

Instead of a lilting soprano response, he was rewarded with a soft baritone chuckle.

"Master Quatre, I was merely bringing you a status report." Rashid Kurama, Quatre's ever faithful friend and Maganac leader, said with an air of amusement.

Quatre looked up, relieved. "Oh, it's you Rashid," he sighed. "Thank goodness, Winner Corp. is just . . . " he motioned slightly to the large pile of paperwork. "Well, you can see."

Rashid nodded. He felt a twang of concern for his 19-year-old friend. Quatre had been doing well for himself the past few years, in light of the Christmas eve war and the events of AC 195. However, the stress of working for a large colonial corporation was obviously getting to him. His normally aquamarine eyes were glazed, and dark circles ran under them.

Rashid frowned. "Master Quatre, you don't look well. Is something the matter?" he asked.

Quatre sighed, and pushed his soft leather chair back from the paperwork-cluttered desk. "My poor desk," he said, patting it softly. He sighed. "Rashid, I don't know if I can do this much longer." He admitted, looking his friend in the eyes.

Rashid raised an eyebrow. "What exactly do you mean? Running the company? Or is it something more?"

Quatre brushed his blond bangs from his eyes, and sighed. A hair cut was something this job was also keeping him from. "Rashid, this job is just too much. Normally I would say that I could manage dividing my time between work and," he paused a moment, thinking. "Well, whatever is outside of work. Which hasn't been that much, including sleep."

Rashid looked concerned. "Master Quatre, why don't you and I grab a cup of tea. You could use the escape from the work."

Quatre's face flooded with relief. "Thank you, Rashid. I'll take you up on that offer." He said, pushing the chair back and standing.

He searched his cluttered desk for the phone, and not finding it, gave up. He shrugged to Rashid. "I'll just let Anne know to hold my calls." Rashid chuckled, and laid a hand on Quatre's slim shoulder as they walked out of the office.

Quatre quietly asked Anne to have anyone wishing to reach him call back, and followed Rashid to the elevator.

"So, Master, what else has been on your mind?" Rashid asked, queuing the elevator to the ground floor.

Quatre looked out the glass window of the elevator at the colony. "Rashid, while I loved my father as much as everyone else in my family, I really don't believe myself to be the one to run this business." he sighed, focusing on a tall office building. "Iria can handle it better than I could, even if it would take her away from the hospital. I'm just not cut out for this kind of work. I need to be with people, not paper."

Rashid looked on, nodding with understanding. "Perhaps you need a break, Master." he said as the elevator ceased its journey. "Have you thought of other careers you could take up that would suit your particular skills?" he asked.

Quatre remained silent, looking pensive. He led Rashid through the large glass doors of the Winner Corp. office building. "I'm not sure Rashid. Anything that would get me away from files, paperwork, politics, and business." he finally admitted, sighing. "I realize that could mean anything, but I love working with people. Not stepping on them."

Rashid smiled. His young friend was definitely maturing. "Yes, I do recall a time just after the Christmas Eve war that you acted as a foreman more than a company manager. I believe, Master, that you would probably do well at anything you set your mind to." he said as the pair strolled down the busy street of the L-4 colony.

Quatre's cheeks reddened at the compliment. "Your confidence in my abilities may be inflated, Rashid. I've only just recently adapted to the civilian life, and remember," he said, stopping suddenly on the sidewalk. "I haven't even attended a university."

Rashid nodded, and prodded the young man along. "Yes Master, but you also have gift for understanding people. You haven't gained the nickname 'Heart of Outer Space' without reason. Your kindness is something that is well known. Ah, here we are." he said, stopping in front of an outdoor café. "It's been rumored that this place has excellent tea."

Quatre smiled as he and his friend seated themselves in the black wire chairs. "I just wish I had more of an idea what direction I should be going," he admitted. "I know that my sisters would not be pleased if I up and left them with the company to run without a reason." he said, his eyes looking worried.

Rashid scratched his beard a moment, his eyes glazing over in thought. "Master Quatre, I may have something in mind." Quatre's eyes widened. "Something young Mr. Barton mentioned when he last visited. I believe his lovely sister had a friend that worked in one of the agricultural colonies in our cluster. I can't recall the details, but perhaps if you phone him, he'd be able to tell you about his acquaintance?"

Quatre smiled. "I may do that, Rashid." His eyes lit up slightly. "I haven't heard from Trowa in a while, and if he can help solve my dilemma, all the better." Rashid nodded in agreement as the waiter appeared to take their orders.

* * *

Hours later, Quatre found himself in front of the vid-phone. He called up the registry and phoned Trowa. He hadn't seen his quiet friend for nearly six months, but that was to be expected as the stoic Heavyarms pilot was often on the move with the circus. 

The screen in front of him activated, and he was greeted by the smiling face of Catherine Bloom, Trowa's friend and trailer mate.

"Quatre!" she exclaimed, smiling. "It's good to see you! I assume you want to talk to Trowa?" she asked.

Quatre smiled in return. "Yes, thank you Catherine." he waited while she called to Trowa off screen. "How are you?" he asked her when she turned her attention back to him.

"Oh, I'm fine. The usual, you know. Work, move, work, rest. But we're all doing well here. Oh, here's Trowa," Catherine said, backing away from the screen.

Quatre felt his cheeks tighten into a grin at the sight of his friend's long, brown bangs. "Trowa!"

Trowa nodded. "Quatre. It's been a long time." he said quietly.

Quatre had to smile at the twenty-year-old pilot. Some things never changed, and Trowa was obviously as talkative as ever.

"I just wanted to give you a call because I haven't seen you in a while, and," he took a breath in before continuing. "Because Rashid recommended that I do so."

Trowa raised an eyebrow. "Rashid did?" he asked.

Quatre nodded, and quickly explained his situation with the company and how the stress was getting to him.

Trowa nodded periodically throughout the explanation. Then he furrowed his eyebrows when he realized Quatre was finished.

"So why did Rashid recommend you call me?" he asked, concern glinting from his visible eye.

"He said you knew someone who I may be able to contact to try something new. Said she lived on an agro-colony in the L-4 cluster." Quatre explained. He wasn't sure of the details, so there was little else he could offer his friend. Fortunately, Trowa seemed to understand.

"Oh. Catherine must have talked to him about Adrienne." he said thoughtfully.

"Adrienne?" Quatre asked. That was the first time he'd heard that name mentioned from both Catherine and Trowa.

Trowa nodded slightly. "Yes, she's a psychologist who works out of a house by one of the agro-colony's lakes. As I recall, it's a beautiful place. Catherine visited her on the circus' last trip to the colonies."

Quatre looked confused. "She's a psychologist? I wonder why Rashid would have mentioned her to me."

Trowa's visible eyebrow rose. "You are a kind person, Quatre. I also know that you have an unusual amount of empathy. Perhaps . . . " he turned to face off the screen. "Catherine," he called. "Do you know what Adrienne's number is?" he asked.

Catherine said something unintelligible off screen, and Trowa turned back to Quatre. "I'm sending you her e-mail address right now. Apparently she doesn't have a phone at the house." He said, shrugging.

Quatre reached for a pen and wrote the number down. "So what should I expect from her? Is there anything I should mention?" he asked.

Trowa looked thoughtful a moment, and then shook his head. "No. Just tell her that I told you to contact her." He gazed at his friend for a moment. "She works with kids in need, Quatre. But somehow I think that you'll do well there." He said, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.

Quatre smiled. "Alright, I'll do that Trowa. I hope to see you soon."

Trowa nodded before cutting the connection.

Quatre sighed and turned in his chair to look across his room. Why was had work suddenly become something that was a burden? The stress level had only become intolerable in the last year or so. So why now did he feel the need to find a new occupation?

He stood and padded barefoot across his large room. He paused to straighten a few stray fringes on the large ornamental rug, and sat on his bed. He sighed again and hoped that Trowa wasn't sending him to his psychologist friend for therapy! Quatre shook his head. No, that wasn't Trowa at all. He was more direct than that.

Shrugging, he picked up the small, white book from his bed stand. Abdul had recommended _Catcher in the Rye_ to him, and he'd been meaning to get through it. However, leisure reading was something that he'd had little time for the past few weeks. Perhaps a few chapters would help him unwind.

He was asleep after the third page.

* * *

Two weeks later, Quatre found himself standing outside a large, sprawling, ranch house on Agricultural colony 3. He smiled at the open design, as well as the large lake that dominated the back yard. It was a very beautiful setting. 

"You must be Quatre," an auburn haired young woman called from the front door. "I'm Adrienne, why don't you come in?" she offered.

Quatre smiled and picked up his brown Preventer duffle bag. He slung it over his shoulder and stepped onto her porch.

"Thank you for letting me stay a while. I don't know how much I'll be able to help you, but I'm grateful for your offer." He said, following her into the house.

She manoeuvered him to a small study, and had him set his things down.

"So, tell me a bit more about yourself. I know we've talked a few times, but I figure it'd be nice to get some background information on you." Adrienne said, sitting in a small grey recliner.

Quatre sat in the matching couch opposite her, and chuckled to himself.

"What?" she asked, smiling.

"Oh, it's nothing." Quatre said with a smile. "I just feel like I'm in a counseling session with this couch here."

Adrienne smiled. "Have you been to counseling before?" she asked, tilting her head to one side.

Quatre shook his head. "No. Well, yes. I remember a period when I was twelve that my father tried to send me in for some, but that didn't last long. I got over myself after meeting Rashid and the Maganac Corps."

"Ah. Well that's good, I would wonder if Catherine had sent me another patient." Adrienne said, half-jokingly. Quatre noticed she seemed rather sad.

"I'm sorry. Did I come at a bad time?" he asked, his aquamarine eyes turning to a deeper blue as concern filled him.

Adrienne's face wavered a bit. "Oh, no. It isn't you, Quatre. You are a blessing." She sighed, looking at the ceiling. "Believe me. You are a blessing. Didn't Trowa tell you?" she asked.

"Tell me what?" Quatre asked, confused. Adrienne wasn't making that much sense. Was there something he should know?

"Well, I am working alone here with four children. And each one of them has their own need. I just wish I had more funding or help. But these cases are the most difficult to deal with. I guess you could say I am the last person to receive these kids when the normal system can't take them." Adrienne said sadly. Her shoulders drooped slightly. Then she straightened them. "But now you are here. I figure we'll have a lot of time to talk. But I do have one other question for you if you don't mind."

"By all means, please ask away." Quatre said, leaning back into the couch.

"Your empathy, I have heard stories about it. Can you really sense the emotions of others beside your own?" she asked, leaning forward in the recliner.

Quatre bit his lip slightly, and played with the buttons on his blue polo shirt. He had always been rather inarticulate when it came to the empathy. How did one explain something that was as mysterious as space itself?

He sighed and shrugged. "Yes. I do," he answered simply. "I can't explain to you why or how, but I can."

Adrienne nodded, looking understanding. "That's all I wished to know. But I do hope you can use it. Maybe you can help me crack some of the kids here. Would you like to . . . " A sharp gasp cut her off.

Quatre turned his head to locate the source of the gasp. A small boy, no more than 10 stood in the doorway to the study, holding a Leo model.

Quatre smiled at the boy's disorganized black hair. "Hi there!" he greeted, waving slightly.

The boy's face stayed frozen the way it had been for the few second's he'd stood there. A curious feeling washed over Quatre, and he wasn't sure what he was feeling from the boy. Then the child screamed.

* * *

A/N I did a bit of research on several websites and cross referranced it with some japanese ones. Appearently Rashid has a last name. Take it as you will. shrug Again, thanks for reading! 


	2. Secret Rooms

Well, for the people that are intrigued, thanks for reading. Hopefully you like it. I know the plot's sorta maundering at the moment, but it will pick up soon.

Ok, necessary things. I don't own Gundam Wing. Or Gundams. Or Quatre. The lack of gundams dissapoints me greatly.

Couples: None, as of yet. Not sure if there will be any or not. Depends on what my muse says.

* * *

The boy's cries continued unabated. Quatre flinched. What was that about? Had he said something wrong?

Adrienne softly called to the boy.

"Zachary," the whisper came.

The boy's jade eyes reoriented themselves on the young psychologist. His expression remained locked, and his scream continued. Yet Quatre wondered if he was hearing things or if the timbre of the scream had been reduced slightly.

"Zatters," Adrienne soothed, sitting up in her chair.

The boy slowly closed his mouth. His eyes began to shift rapidly to and fro. A titanium piercing gaze for Quatre, a cautious one for Adrienne.

Adrienne sat back in her chair and motioned for the child to come into the study. He tiptoed over to her chair, watching Quatre the entire journey over. He slunk down next to the armrest, and Adrienne tousled his hair.

"Zatters," she said, reacquiring his attentions. "This is Quatre. He's going to be staying with us for a while." She spoke slowly and evenly, as if Zatters would not understand. He nodded slowly, but began rapidly twisting a curl of black hair about his finger.

"Hi Zatters," Quatre said, waving slightly. "That is a cool Leo you have there."

The boy's eyes narrowed, and he hugged the toy protectively against his chest. The initial apprehension the boy must have felt had abated, and Quatre allowed himself to relax as the intense emotion departed the study.

Adrienne raised an eyebrow at Zatters. "Quatre and I need to talk some. Why don't you go play with your Mobile Suits? I'll come get you once we're done talking, ok?" Again, the slowly patterned speech came from the woman to the boy, and Zatters nodded.

"Ok," was all he said. He continued to warily eye Quatre, and backward walked out of the study. Almost as a parting gesture, however, he brought the Leo's rifle up and pointed it at him. He made a small ping, and disappeared around the corner.

Quatre made an agonized noise. "He got me!" he exclaimed, holding his chest. He hoped the boy had been listening for the results of his attack.

Adrienne smirked, then furrowed her eyebrows. "You didn't seem too phased by Zachary's outburst. Do you have younger siblings?" she asked. How else would the young man in front of her little more than flinch at the child's fearful screeches?

Quatre shrugged. He didn't have the answer she wanted. "I'm the youngest in my family, Miss Adrienne. All of my sisters are older than I am." Noting her still puzzled expression, he continued. "He merely startled me, but I know that sometimes children are fearful of strangers. I am a stranger to him, so . . . " he trailed off and shrugged again.

Adrienne nodded, accepting his explanation. "Well, I hope you will be as resilient with the other kids as you were with Zatters." She said. A pale smile crossed her face, and she turned to look out the bay window that dominated the rear wall of the study.

In that instant, the age difference between Quatre and Adrienne became more pronounced. Oh, he'd known that the psychologist was a good seven years his senior, but early conversations with her had put him under the impression that she acted more his age.

Adrienne said something, interrupting his thoughts.

Quatre shook his head. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Adrienne smiled. "Off in the clouds, are we?" she teased. "I just asked if you thought you would be able to help me. I must warn you that each of the children that live here have their own special needs. And some of them are hard to deal with. You may have to steer clear of Kyle for the first few days you're here." She warned.

Quatre took a deep breath before replying. "Yes, I think I can do it. I haven't had much training when it came to counseling, but," he sighed. "People have always naturally opened up to me. Mind you that in itself has gotten me into trouble, but I doubt it will here."

Adrienne nodded understandingly. "Well, let's go meet them. I'll introduce you, and then," she shrugged. "Well, we'll just let you get into the routine. Come along." She stood, and motioned for Quatre to follow.

* * *

Quatre soon discovered that the house was larger than it appeared on the outside. The house had at least two distinct wings, and several empty rooms. As Adrienne led him through the hallway, he began to hear music.

Mozart blasted from a piano.

Adrienne slowly opened a large oak door at the far end of the hallway. The room behind the door was massive. A few steps led down to a hardwood dance floor and the ceiling vaulted high overhead.

And there it was.

In the center of the room sat a proud Baldwin Grand piano. It was an old thing, the outer varnish had become a dry lake bed of cracks, and something had gouged several craters in the jewel box lid. But the boy at the piano seemed to pay the outer appearance little mind.

He was the master of the music, and his muse spoke directly into his freckled ears. Quatre gazed in wonder at the tow-headed boy. He himself had played the piano, and had taken many years worth of lessons. But the raw talent this boy possessed nearly brought him to envy.

He raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Adrienne.

"That is Sam," she whispered. "He's here on the request of a rich colonial family. He really isn't a problematic child. He's just . . . gifted." She explained.

The boy never looked up from his playing, even as Adrienne closed the door.

"Is he always that intensely focused?" Quatre asked. "It was almost as if we weren't even in the room to him."

Adrienne sighed slightly as she led Quatre to a spiral staircase. "We weren't there to him, Quatre. Sam is Autistic."

Quatre paused in his stair climbing, his mouth forming an 'o'. "So why is he here? I was under the impression Autism wasn't treatable,"

Adrienne turned to face him as he reached the top of the staircase. "It really isn't. The only thing I can help him with is his fears. Which, I have a hard time getting around to everyone as is, so I haven't had much time to focus on him," She ran her fingers through her shoulder length sandy hair. "He would be the one that I wouldn't have you try to work with, Quatre. He really only opens up to me."

Quatre nodded. What little he knew about autistic children told him that Adrienne was right.

"Now that we've covered that little issue, I think Renee is up here." Adrienne said, striding over to the lone door at the top of the stairs.

She paused, her hand on the handle, then turned back to Quatre.

"Renee doesn't talk much. I don't really know what is up with her. However, the people that sent her to me said that she's been this way since she was a child." She explained.

Quatre opened his mouth to ask what she meant, but Adrienne had already turned to the door. Who or what lay beyond it?

Adrienne opened the door, and Quatre had to adjust his eyes to the sunlit room. It looked to be a library, with a balcony that overlooked the lake out back.

Quatre felt her before he saw her. Her presence was like that of a comet in the night sky, little more than an apparition. Few humans he'd met felt like that. Heero was about the only exception, and even with Heero, Quatre had required some time to grow accustomed to it.

"Renee," Adrienne greeted softly. "I'd like you to meet someone."

The girl turned to face Quatre and Adrienne. Her strawberry blond hair gently circled her face, and she focused on the pair in front of her.

Quatre's heart froze mid beat. She was beautiful. What could have happened to this fair creature that would end her up in Adrienne's care?

"This is Quatre, Renee. He'll be staying with us a while." Adrienne explained. But this time, she didn't gain the explanatory tone she used on Zatters. She just talked to the girl.

The girl made no outward sign that she'd even cared. But something inside the girl shifted. Quatre felt it. A flare of emotion exploded outward from her, yet the girl remained calm. Serene. Silent.

Quatre felt a pain in his chest. He placed his palm over his heart. What was she trying to tell him?

"Quatre? Are you alright?" Adrienne asked, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"I... Ow. I'll be alright." He said, wincing slightly. "It was nice to meet you, Renee. I hope to talk to you again sometime," he said pleasantly. He regained his outward composure, and allowed Adrienne to lead him away from the girl.

What was so special about her? What had happened to her? Questions filled his mind, and no answers readily came.

Just before Adrienne closed the door again, Quatre heard a soft whisper.

In a voice like crushed velvet, Renee spoke. "Desert child, a star has burned for you."

Quatre gripped the door, and opened it again. He stared at the girl in the room, and she stared back. Her blue-grey eyes gazed mournfully at him, haunting him. She said nothing else, and turned back to the bookshelves.

Quatre closed the door, and bit his lip. What did she mean? Was there a meaning behind what she said? Or was that simply a nothing statement of a confused mind?

Adrienne rubbed her lower lip. "You know Quatre, that is the first time I think that I've heard her say something to someone."

"To someone?" What could she possibly mean by that?

"Yes. She talks to herself, and keeps her own counsel. She may talk to Kyle, but he won't let me know either way," Adrienne settled an intrigued gaze on the platinum haired boy in front of her. "Somehow, you got through to her."

* * *

A/N Yay research and things. I know, lots of problem kids, and we still don't know what's up with this Kyle kid either. But Quatre's an empath, right? He can handle it. Well, hope you enjoyed, I'll try to update soon. Review if you feel so inclined. 


	3. Disgruntled Diners and Child's Play

Greetings from snowing west michigan. Gods, its cold out side, and blizzardy and generally sucky. So I am here typing for you, thus the longer update. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed, Terra, MousyCoon, Bigsis... I hope you enjoy it. Alright, disclaimers out of the way

**I don't own gundam!!! Nor do I own Iocane powder.** disappointment

I have some author's notes at the end for you with a few things. Enjoy! -Wraith

* * *

"What's he doing here?" a harsh tenor voice demanded from the doorway. Adrienne and Quatre turned to face the young man who owned the razor edged tone.

"Kyle, this is Quatre. He'll be staying with us for a while." Adrienne explained, waving a hand in Quatre's direction.

Quatre held out his hand, but Kyle sneered and shook his head. "I don't know you, and I don't trust you. Why are you here?" he demanded.

"Kyle! Don't be rude!"

Quatre waved Adrienne off. "A friend of mine said I might be of some use here. That I might feel better if I stayed here a while,"

The sneer faded a bit, and for a brief moment, was replaced by something that almost reeked of sympathy. But Kyle quickly banished the expression from his face, instead fixing Quatre with a look of contempt.

"Oh, so you're here to join the crazy club, eh? Well, make yourself at home. You'll probably be here a while." He said, stalking off down the hallway.

Adrienne bit her lip. "I'm very sorry about that, Kyle . . . "

Quatre shook his head. "You don't need to explain. He's angry about something, at is probably just choosing to take it out on whatever harmless thing comes his way,"

Adrienne smirked slightly. "I take it you've dealt with people like him before?"

Quatre laughed. "You could say that. Wu Fei was like that."

"I see," Adrienne looked down at her watch. "Well, it is about getting time for dinner. I suppose I should show you to your room and let you stow your stuff."

* * *

The next hour progressed rapidly. Once unpacked, Quatre made himself useful by assisting in the kitchen. He wondered if he impressed Adrienne with his cooking knowledge, but she never inquired about it, so he felt no need to elaborate the origins of his talents.

He was gently chopping carrots for the vegetable platter when Renee meandered in. He confused himself, for he had noted her approach before she'd entered the room. Strange. Trowa and Dorothy were the few people that he could do that with. What was with this girl?

Adrienne smiled. "Hello Renee. Care to set the table?"

Renee's expression never changed, but the girl lilted over to a cupboard and removed several plates. She flowed about the kitchen, often stepping ballet style through the room, softly placing the plates upon the round oak table. Quatre caught himself watching her, not out of interest, but out of curiosity.

The girl seemed to live in her own world, yet was very much in tune with the world around her. She may not give a visible response to Adrienne's questions, but Quatre could feel the emotional clicks every now and then. In a way, she rather reminded him of Heero.

'But then again,' he thought to himself. 'Even Heero would show a bit of interest in the outside world.'

The psychologist would sigh, and look wistfully at Renee, but continued her cooking. There was an attachment between the two, but Quatre guessed that it was probably not often reciprocated upon by Renee. No, the girl hid for a reason. Perhaps that was what made her all the more fascinating

Soon, the scents of cooking spaghetti began to attract the other denizens of the house.

"Oh! Are we having spaghetti?" Zatters' excited cry echoed from the doorway. The ten-year-old grinned widely as Adrienne nodded.

"Yes, and Quatre has been helping me make dinner." Adrienne explained.

Zatters set Quatre with a suspicious gaze. "Oh. Him," Was all he said.

Quatre sighed. The child seemed to be a bit too cynical for his tastes. Good heavens, the boy had to be barely 10. He shouldn't have this distrust for strangers.

Adrienne shrugged, and tucked a strand of black hair behind her head. "Well, I made sure he didn't contaminate it with germs." She told Zatters, winking at Quatre. "Why don't you go tell Kyle and Sam that dinner's ready?"

"Sure!" The boy replied, bounding off down the hallway.

"Don't run too fast on the wood floors!" Adrienne called after him. She sighed. "What will I do with him? He has so much energy!"

Quatre chuckled. "Well, it's refreshing. My friend Duo is rather like him."

"The God of Death is a mischievous child, eh?" Adrienne joked. "Here, set that on the table. I think Renee's taken a seat already." She ordered, handing him the finished vegetable tray.

Adrienne was correct about the girl. She'd seated herself in on the left side of the rectangular oak slab and was absently playing with her fork.

Quatre smiled at her, and set the tray full of healthful food in front of her. Her nose crinkled almost imperceptibly.

"Not a fan of vegetables, Renee?" Quatre asked the quiet girl.

She shook her head.

Quatre nodded. "Me neither," Figuring that was all he'd get out of her, he returned to the kitchen.

"Quatre, before you get the drinks on the table, I need to let you know something." Adrienne said seriously.

Quatre nodded, and allowed her to lead him into the pantry.

"It's about the kids. Don't mention to them that you were a Gundam pilot." She ordered, than requesting his silence. "Your mention of Duo reminded me of that, and . . . Well Kyle hates anything that has to do with the war, and Sam is terrified of Mobile Suits. I haven't figured out why, but he'll freeze up at any mention of them, and it usually takes me a good hour to calm him down."

Quatre nodded. "I understand. I'll keep my talking about it to a minimum. Unless of course I'm around Zack. Or is Zatters?"

Adrienne laughed. "Yes, I'm sure he'd love for you to talk Mobile suits with him. And just call him Zatters or Zat. It's a nickname he picked up from somewhere. Now then, what say you to helping me get that spaghetti on the table?"

Quatre nodded, and moved out of the pantry. He gripped the sides of the massive pot the spaghetti had been cooking in. Adrienne held out an enormous strainer, and soon an amorphous blob of white noodles lay captured in the orange bowl.

Kyle wandered in. "Do you want me to put cups on?" He asked.

Adrienne nodded. "Grab the cheese while you're at it."

The blond teen did as he was told.

Adrienne inclined her head in the dining room's direction. "Why don't you go sit, Quatre? I'll be out in a second."

Taking her advice, he headed out into the dining room. Renee hadn't moved from her seat, but Kyle had joined her on the left side. Sam crunched on a carrot stick, sitting serenely at the end of the table, which Zatters, his antithesis, flew about the room at a speed only children can manage.

Kyle glowered at the energetic boy. "Why can't you sit still? God, didn't you take your meds?" he growled.

Zatters ignored the older boy's condescending tone, but stopped in front of his chair. He still bounced up and down on the balls of his feet.

"But Kyle! It's spaghetti night!" he exclaimed, continuing to move about.

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Oh yay, spaghetti. You know the old lady probably poisoned it." He said with a shrug.

Zatters looked concerned. "No, she wouldn't!"

Kyle nodded, a faux-serious look on his face. "It's true. Probably put a bit of arsenic in it, just for you." He said, leveling a serious gaze at the young boy.

"Now Kyle, I take offense to that," Adrienne said, interrupting Kyle's harassment. "You know full well that arsenic is not my preferred method of poison."

Zatters caught onto the joke, and relaxed. "Oh. I see. No poison then. I was worried." He said, seating himself. His leg continued to bounce up and down, even as he sat.

"So what would be your preferred method of poison?" Quatre asked, seating himself.

Before Adrienne could reply, Sam spoke up. "Iocane powder."1 He dead panned.

Kyle nearly fell out of his seat with laugher. Everyone else smirked or showed their own amusement.

"Iocane powder. Good one, Sam." Kyle said, shaking his head.

"All right everyone, let's get the giggles out for a moment. Say your own grace, then we'll eat." Adrienne said, motioning for calm from the peanut gallery.

2Everyone more or less bowed their heads and remained silent a moment. Quatre felt a twinge of awkwardness. He'd never been fond of religion, and had his own views on God and faith. It was something that he attempted to not bring up with Rashid or his father, as the two of them had been faithful Muslims their entire lives.

But Quatre had always questioned the Koran and the ways of old. That wasn't to say he agreed with the Judeo-Christian concepts of God either, merely that he felt that humans still hadn't figured him or her out yet.

Thankfully, the other residents of Lake House seemed to have completed their private conversations with the great whoever-was-out-there and began voraciously attacking the morass of pasta and meatballs.

Somehow, beyond all odd, Quatre and Adrienne managed to find enough spaghetti left by the rabid boys for themselves. Renee also had her share of spaghetti, but with the special vegetarian sauce Quatre had helped prepare.

Conversation was light about the house. How the children were doing on their studies, and so on and so forth. Renee was her usual, quiet self, seemingly oblivious to the outside world. Yet Quatre was beginning to notice petite gestures her body would make in reaction to someone's comments.

'Perhaps she isn't as hidden as she'd like everyone to believe,' he thought to himself.

At that exact moment, Renee met his eyes. She didn't hold her gaze for very long, but it was enough to make him wonder. Was she reading him? Was she an empath?

Any further thoughts on the matter were quickly abated by Kyle slamming his hand onto the table.

"Can you stop moving for two seconds!?" he demanded. Zatters had been bouncing his foot under the table, and causing the spoons to vibrate and rock on the wooden surface. Given Kyle's sharp tone, it had become an irritation.

Zatters sank back into his chair. "I'm sorry." His foot, despite himself, continued on its gyrations.

Kyle looked as if an angry retort was about to burst forth from him, so Quatre stepped in.

"He didn't mean to bother you. Just ask him to sit on his foot or something," he said in his 'keep-Wu-Fei-from-killing-Duo' voice.

Kyle's dark brown eyes leveled a piercing glare on Quatre. "If he sits on his foot, he'll just start moving something else! It's the same every evening!" He snapped.

"Perhaps if you were kinder to him, he wouldn't appear as annoying to you." Quatre replied calmly.

Kyle ground his jaw. "I can't believe this. You don't know us, and yet you sit here and preach to me about kindness!" He took in a sharp breath. "Look, I don't know what your problem is, but we don't need you here! Kindness is weakness. It doesn't serve any purpose except to be a way for other people to hurt you! And if you believe otherwise, you're an idiot."

His tirade complete, Kyle wrenched his empty plate from the smooth oak surface and stalked into the kitchen.

Silence uncomfortably settled about the dining room, as one feels when viewing St. Elmo's fire. Only Renee seemed to be unaffected by Kyle's sudden outburst. She quietly continued eating her spaghetti, completely ignoring the irate boy who had just exited.

Sam was the first to recover. He shrugged, and again began his systematic assault on the mass of noodles and meatballs on his plate. The others soon followed in his example, but any idle chatter was notably absent.

"Can I play MS after dinner?" Zatters asked, finally breaking the tension and allowing conversation to return to the table.

"I have the TV after dinner." Sam blurted out, licking spaghetti sauce from his chin. Zatters pursed his lips and looked to Adrienne.

Adrienne shook her head. "Zat, let Sam have the living room. You can play in your room or in the library."

Silence yet again befell the table, intermittently broken by the clinks of silverware on ceramic. Quatre finished his spaghetti, and brought his plate into the kitchen. Depositing it with a slight crashing noise into the sink, he winced before returning to the table.

"Would you be able to play with me?" Zatters asked Adrienne as Quatre returned to his seat next to the boy.

Adrienne frowned. "Sorry Zat, I can't. You know I'm busy after dinner with Kyle."

The boy looked disappointed, so Quatre spoke up.

"I'll play with you, if you'd like." He offered.

Zatters struggled over the offer a moment. Quatre could tell the boy was still a mite apprehensive about his presence in the household, but it seemed to be abating.

Finally, the child shrugged. "Sure, you can play with me. But I get to be the Aries," he said, adding a childish stipulation. Yes, despite his mature cynicism, Zatters was still a spunky 10 year old under the surface.

Adrienne offered Quatre a tired smile, and mouthed 'thank you'.

Quatre nodded to her, and faced Zatters. "Well, if you would like to put your plate away, we could go play." He suggested.

Zatters nodded excitedly, and burst out of his chair much like the Aries he adored. Another crash came from the kitchen as the boy's plate clattered into the sink, and faster than any adult could move, the boy was back and shaking Quatre's arm.

"Let's go! Let's go!" he ordered, this time jumping up and down.

Quatre laughed and allowed himself to be drug down the wooden hallway. He caught a bit of Adrienne's grin at the sight, and allowed himself to smile. This could be fun.

Zatters flung open a nondescript door in the lake house's east wing, and Quatre felt like he'd been blinded by blue.

The boy's room was a mess, as children's rooms often are. But he had drawings, glow-in-the-dark stars, and posters everywhere. The walls were painted the colour of Earth's sky, and the colour was only broken by white pieces of notebook paper with crayon and pencil sketches of various mobile suits.

Zatters leapt onto his bed, and began rummaging through something on the other side. As per his theme, his comforter was a maze of colourful moons, stars and planets.

"You've got an awesome room, Zat," Quatre commented as the boy tossed various mobile suit models onto his bed. He caught a Taurus in flight configuration that flew just a bit further than Zat had probably intended, and set it down.

Leos, Cancers, and other mobile suit models soon littered his bed. But it was the white model that captured Quatre's attention.

His chest tightened slightly, and he felt a pang in his heart as he picked up the model Sandrock.

"Hello, old friend." He whispered, and toyed with the plastic heat shotels. He hadn't realized how much he missed his old Gundam till now, but he shrugged it off. The world was a better place without a need for Sandrock.

"Ok, I think I found all of them!" Zatters exclaimed, and dumped a small box worth of miniature weapons onto the floor. "Are you ready?"

His excitement was contagious, and Quatre felt himself drawing on the pure emotions from the boy.

"Yes. How do we play? It's been a while for me." He admitted, still clutching Sandrock.

Zatters thought a moment. "Well, we each pick several mobile suits. I have my Aries, and I see you like the white one."

"Sandrock." Quatre corrected.

"Sandrock, yes. Well, we both keep picking suits until there aren't any left. Then we arm them with their guns and things," Zatters waved a hand over the assortment of cannons and beam sabers in the haphazard pile. "And then they fight to the death."

"To the death? You know people could eject sometimes," Quatre cautioned.

Zat shook his head adamantly. "No one survives mobile suit battles. If your mobile suit is damaged, you're dead. That's the way it is."

Quatre frowned. "Zat, how old are you?"

"I'm ten. I'll be eleven in three months."

"You are far, far too young to be thinking like that. And I do know that sometimes people are able to eject just fine." Quatre explained.

"Maybe." Zatters consented. "How old are you?" he asked suddenly.

"I'm 19."

"Oh!" the boy exclaimed. "You're Renee's age."

"Renee?" Quatre asked. "She's 19, too?"

Zatters nodded. "Yep. I'm the youngest. Then Sam is a year older than me and Kyle is 15. But he's cranky and I don't think he likes me, but I just ignore him so we get along I guess."

"Ah, I see. My friend Duo is a lot like you." Quatre said. "He and one of my other friends sometimes just can't get alone, but he just pretends Wu Fei likes him anyway."

Quatre looked up to and realized that Zatters eyes were shining like the stars.

"You know . . . Duo?" he asked in a near reverent tone. "The friend of Solo? Of the Maxwell church?"

Were they talking about the same person? Quatre knew Duo had a friend named Solo who died on L2 when his orphan band was trying to find food. But he wasn't sure of the Maxwell church part. Although it would explain Duo's last name . . .

"Well, I don't know. Duo did have a friend named Solo when he lived on L2."

The boy's eyes widened. "You know the Shinigami!" he exclaimed. "What's he like?"

"He's a lot like you, actually." Quatre shrugged. "I thought we were going to play mobile suits." He said, confused by the boy's interest in Duo.

"Oh yeah, mobile suits. Well, we better get picking if we're going to play!" Zatters said, picking up a Leo.

Quatre puzzled over Zatters' sudden distraction from Duo, but shrugged it off and chose a Taurus suit.

"So how do we know if the suit has been destroyed?" Quatre asked.

"Oh, you just know." Zatters explained, picking up a Tragos with cannons on it's back.

"Ah, I see."

Soon, shrieks of delight and human-made attempts at the sounds of a fierce mobile suit battle filled the halls of the Lake House. Even Adrienne heard them from the kitchen where she was doing dishes, and smiled at the fact that not all the shrieks were being made by Zatters. Quatre was loosening up, and he'd looked like he'd needed it. She smiled to herself and continued drying the plates.

* * *

Renee lay upon the piano bench. She could always rest in the instrument room. Adrienne had never explained why the Lake House had the dance hall built on it, but it was a beautiful room, and she could dance. But she did not feel like dancing today. So she sat on the soft leather bench in front of the piano, and allowed herself to think.

There was something special about the blond boy her age that had just arrived, but she could not place what it was. He did have pretty aquamarine eyes, and she'd almost felt guilty for the glance that she'd matched with his. He seemed too kind for her. Never in a hundred years would he ever . . .

Her heart became an accelerating piston in her chest, beating faster and faster and faster. Oh god, was she going to die? She couldn't die! Her chest felt like it was caving in, and she felt herself breathing faster and shallower than she should.

What was happening? Why did she feel this way? Was this the end? She tried to cry for help, but her voice was silent . . .

* * *

Quatre had been backed into a corner by Zatters. The mobile suit battle had originally started far in Zatters favor, until finally Quatre caught onto the rules better. He inflicted heavy losses into Zatters' forces, but attrition was beginning to set in.

With only his trusty Sandrock remaining, he readied himself to face the three Leos and the dreadful Aries that Zatters was deploying.

He laughed to himself. 'This looks too familiar,' he thought.

Suddenly, something caught his attention. A cry that his psyche picked up, but he knew that it wasn't vocalized.

Realization struck home. Renee was in trouble.

"Zatters, go get Adrienne! Something's wrong with Renee!" Quatre ordered, dropping Sandrock and bolting out of the room. He hoped the Zatters wouldn't wonder why he'd so urgently requested Adrienne, and would just do as he was told.

Quatre ran down the hardwood halls and found himself in the piano room. He didn't know why he'd been drawn there, but he knew Renee was in there. He just knew it.

Opening the door, he found her curled up in a fetal position on the floor. She was shaking, and he wasn't sure why. Then he was struck by a massive wave of fear. She must have been having an anxiety attack.

Quatre took a deep breath to steady himself, and quickly slid to her side. She was hyperventilating, and showed no signs of calming down on her own. He knew what he had to do.

He spread his small hands as far as he could, placing his thumb near the top of her bony spine, and his pinky as far as he could stretch. He lay across the panicked girl, and focused his mind.

He pictured her, and her body as an outline in his head. She was filled with a yellow colour, the colour he attributed to fear. Drawing on everything he had, he envisioned that fear being drawn into his own body through his hand. Sweat beaded on his forehead with concentration, and he felt himself tensing up as the fear began to flow into him . . .

* * *

Adrienne sprinted at breakneck speed down the hall. Zatters said Adrienne was in trouble, and that couldn't be good. Try as she might, she still loved the quiet girl who refused treatment. When she burst into the instrument room, her heart froze. She'd never seen anything like it before.

Quatre was literally glowing. His blue polo seemed brighter than normal, and a golden halo seemed to cover his entire body. Renee lay shaking on the floor, but as Adrienne watched, her shaking slowed to a near stop. Quatre lifted his hand from its spot on her back, and pressed it close to his chest. Adrienne realized that his hand was glowing with the same light that seemed to be emanating from the rest of his body.

Was this boy an angel? Or was it a side effect from his empathy? Adrienne wished to ask.

Quatre's body shuddered three times, and Adrienne began to worry for him. Then he collapsed.

* * *

A/N I know, cliffies, annoying, but that always seems to be where my brain decides to tell me to end. Alright, now little notes on things in the text.

1. Iocane powder is from The Princess Bride. Go rent it if you haven't watched it. It's worth a laugh.

2. Quatre is usually stereotyped into being a devout Muslim, and that always bothered me as he never really seemed like the type that would be blinded into any one faith. Not that I have a problem with other religions, I just always figured him to be one who had his own views on god, and that they probably closely related to space, earth, and their relationships with the universe.

Ok, that's it from me. Review if you so desire. I hope you liked it!!!


	4. Breaking Dawns

All right, I know this is a short update, but I hope you enjoy. I finally am able to bring in some of the 'main' GW characters, so yay for that. Thanks to all who have reviewed, I send you my love. If I didn't reply to your review, I apologize, I probably did, merely ate it.

Again, I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters from it.

* * *

Slowly, tentatively, Quatre's senses reoriented themselves. He was in a bed, but not in the Lake House. The sharp smell of ammonia filled his nostrils, and he crinkled his nose. Where was he? Where were his pants? He tried to reorient himself as his mind forced his thoughts back into their normal orbits.

The room he was in was plagued by a constant dripping, and it wasn't until Quatre became more aware of his personal state that he noted the minute pain radiating from the crook of his right arm. Through slitted eyes, he noted a line leading to a bag of solution.

'I'm in a hospital,' he struggled to place his brain in its proper rotations. 'What happened?'

Intense pain suddenly exploded outward from his chest. The solar flare of bottled emotion surged through Quatre's muscles, causing them to spasm and relax at random. What had he done? He'd only had minor reactions like this before, and that was after healing Heero!

"Quatre." A familiar baritone voice called.

Through pain slitted eyes, Quatre reached a frail hand upward. Trowa Barton caught the flailed fingers and held on. The tremors raking through Quatre slowed to a halt with his touch, and tired aquamarine eyes opened with glacial speed.

"Hey, Trowa," he rasped.

The tall boy gazed down at his platinum haired companion. Trowa grabbed a paper cup of water and helped Quatre sit up.

"Drink this." He said, seating himself on the edge of Quatre's hospital bed. "You gave us quite a scare there. Iria called me as soon as you came in." He said in his breathy baritone.

Quatre frowned and lay back down on the pillows. What exactly had happened? He remembered visiting the Lake House with Adrienne and-

Renee!

"Renee!" He cried out. "Where's Renee?" he tried to sit up again, only to have the IV twist in his arm; pain being the needle's mute protest to his sudden movements.

Trowa pressed him back down onto the bed. "Calm down. You'll only hurt yourself if you try to move too quickly." He ordered. "Renee is fine. Adrienne made sure she was all right, and she is resting now."

Quatre allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief, and calmed down. Why he was attached to the odd girl, he didn't know, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember exactly what had happened to get him into the lumpy hospital bed.

Trowa looked him over through his long, brown bangs. Quatre was a special young man, and whatever had happened to him when he was with Renee concerned the normally detached pilot. Not that Trowa was unconcerned for the welfare of his friends. No, he usually took a c'est la vie perspective on most misfortunes. However, Quatre held a special spot in his heart, as the Arabian did to most who met him.

"What did you do?" he asked, attempting to gauge a reaction from Quatre.

To his surprise, the boy sighed and averted his gaze.

'Odd,' Trowa thought. Quatre was traditionally quite forward with him, and this sudden change of tactics implied that something else was going on.

"I really don't know, Trowa." Quatre whispered. "I honestly don't! And that scares me," he admitted, rolling back to face his friend. His lower lip quivered slightly, and his distraught showed.

Trowa feathered Quatre's bangs. "It's ok. You'll figure it out soon enough." He stood and placed a warm hand on Quatre's forehead. "You need rest. I'll come back later."

Quatre nodded and closed his eyes. Trowa was right, enough time to figure things out later. Now, for sleep . . .

* * *

"He's awake?" Iria Winner's question was more of a statement, and Trowa shook his head.

"He was awake. I told him to get some rest."

Iria nodded. "I'll send someone in to check on him."

"That would probably be prudent." A familiar voice called from down the quiet hospital corridor.

"Heero." Trowa greeted, barely keeping the surprise from his voice. He hadn't seen the Japanese ex-pilot for at least two years. Something must have caught his attention to bring him out of his isolation.

"Don't forget about me. I'm the one who brought him here," Sally Po's soft alto said. Trowa nodded to her as well. Was her hair different? He couldn't tell.

"Sally Po. I'm a friend of Quatre's," Sally said to Iria, extending her hand.

"Iria Winner. I've heard of you, Sally. You are still a doctor, correct?" Iria asked the younger woman.

Sally nodded. "My work with Wu Fei and the Preventers hasn't changed that,"

"Good, then I would like all of you to come with me." Iria said, grabbing the clipboard from above the door of Quatre's suite.

The two young men fell into step behind the tall, brown haired doctor and remained silent. Trowa knew Heero well enough to keep conversation to a minimum, and frankly, didn't mind the silence.

Sally Po caught up with Iria and began to discuss Quatre's condition. "So what is your first prognosis?" She asked.

Iria opened a door marked 'staff only', and motioned them inside. "At the moment, I'm not sure." She admitted. "Which is why I am glad you came. How much work have you done with individuals with Newtype(1) traits?"

"Admittedly, very little," Sally said, looking glum. "I know Quatre is special, but a Newtype?" she asked.

The room they'd entered was sparse, with only a whiteboard, a lighted panel for X-rays and MRIs, and a table.

Heero nodded. "Quatre is an empath." He stated. "I've known this since our first encounter with Zero."

Trowa nodded. "Quatre always hinted at the fact that he could perceive people better than most," his jade eyes grew dark. "I always worried about him for that reason."

Iria nodded to the two young men. "I understand. But yes, I believe Quatre is a Newtype, Sally." She pulled a transparency from Quatre's file, and placed it on the reader. "Look here," she said, turning the machine on.

The transparency contained a cross section of Quatre's brain, roughly down the middle. Trowa's knowledge of medical matters happened to be limited, but he could pick out a few different sections. Nothing looked out of place to him.

"What is that on his amygdala(2)?" Heero asked out of the blue. His blue eyes narrowed as he examined the MRI.

Sally frowned and grabbed a marker. "Right here?" she asked, circling a raised section on the amygdala. "That does look to be out of place." She admitted.

Iria nodded. "That is his Bidan region(3)."

"Bidan region? I'm confused," Trowa said.

"The Bidan region is a section of a Newtype's brain that determines his or her particular aptitude. Most Newtypes I see have it located in their cerebellum, and it explains their natural abilities to feel their surroundings, especially if they are pilots. Quatre is unique because his Bidan area is on his amygdala," Iria explained.

"And the amygdala is the emotion centre of the brain," Sally added. "So what is so important about this Bidan region?" She asked.

"Well, you'll see in a moment." Iria said. "The MRI you are looking at is from last year, 199. This is the one I took yesterday," she placed another transparency on the reader.

"Oh my," Sally whispered.

* * *

Quatre awoke feeling a presence at his side.

"Trowa?" he asked sleepily.

A bright chuckle told him it was indeed, not Trowa. "Oh, come now Quatre. I hope you haven't forgotten me."

"Dorothy? What are you doing here?" he asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"I heard that something had happened to you, and I figured I would pay you a visit," she replied, her normally ice blue eyes melting into a cerulean.

Quatre smiled. "Thank you, Dorothy. It's very kind of you to come see me. I'm all right, really,"

Dorothy nodded. "Of course you are, Quatre. But it isn't the fact that you are recovering which brought about my visit. What exactly happened to you?" she asked.

Quatre frowned. Yet again, a person he was close to was prying for information. Information he lacked.

"I'm not exactly sure what happened," he admitted. "I remember Renee being in trouble, and that I went to help her. From there, everything gets a bit fuzzy."

Dorothy, twirled her blond bangs about her finger. "So you remember nothing beyond that?"

"No, I don't. I wish I did, so that perhaps I could avoid making the same mistake twice!"

Dorothy laughed, a crisp sound that rather suited her. "Quatre Winner, I do believe that if this was caused by you being your kind self, you would gladly make that mistake many, many a time," she teased.

Quatre chuckled. "You know me too well, Dorothy." He smiled at the formerly frosty blond he'd come to know as a friend. "Don't worry too much about me. I bounce back rather well."

Dorothy nodded. "Yes, I know. You always were resilient like that, weren't you, Quatre?" She lay a soft hand on his. "But do please be careful. I would hate to lose you." She admitted in an uncharacteristic moment of gentleness.

"I will, Dorothy. I will."

* * *

Adrienne cursed the phone as it rang. Who had the audacity to call her at this early hour of the morning? Rolling over, the clock mocked her with the news that her morning was indeed nearly noon.

Composing herself before the third ring, and answered.

"Yes?" she asked, attempting to combat the sound one has when just awakened.

"Adrienne? It's Iria Winner. Did I wake you?"

"No, not at all. I was just about to step into the shower." Adrienne lied, turning on the screen for the vid phone.

Iria's face filled the screen. "Ok, good, because there's something I want you to take a look at, and I have a question for you too."

Adrienne frowned and smoothed her hair. "Ok, what did you want me to see."

Iria angled the phone so that it faced the transparency reader. "This is what I wanted you to see." She said, pointing at Quatre's MRI.

Adrienne squinted as the phone auto corrected itself and allowed her to see the MRI in detail.

"It's an MRI. I don't see anything out of place. Wait- What is that on this person's amygdala?" she asked.

"It's a Bidan region." Iria replied.

"On the amygdala?" shock filtered into Adrienne's composed tone. "How did it get there? Usually we only see it on the cerebellum."

"I know, but this is Quatre's amygdala. And it's rather unique for a person with Newtype traits." Iria explained. "But this is the one I did on him last year. Take a look at yesterday's." She suggested, putting the second MRI up.

The spiral shaped region on Quatre's emotional center had grown to twice the size it had been. Yet the rest of his brain appeared to be unaffected by the growth.

"What happened? How did it get so big?" she asked.

Iria turned the monitor back to her. "I don't know," the doctor admitted. "I've never seen something like this happen before. Which leads me to my question for you," she trailed off.

"What would that be?" Adrienne asked, uncertain how she could be of help in the situation.

Iria sighed. "I'd like to run an MRI on Renee. I don't know why, but I have this feeling that she's somehow related to Quatre's attack. I mean, I know that she was having an anxiety attack, but I am curious whether or not we might be dealing with another empath here,"

* * *

Again, apologies for the brevety. I hope you enjoyed it, now for the notes.

1. Newtype: Often used in the original Mobile Suit Gundam, Newtypes tended to have hightened kinesthetic senses and in rare cases, empathy. I merely used that concept and brought it over. I owe MousyCoon a mention here because I realized through reading her story what I might be able to do with the Empathy. So thank you.

2.Amygdala: The emotion centre of the brain. It's what allows you to regulate and control emotions.

3. Bidan Region: Fictional region of brain tissue that gives a Newtype his powers. I named it after Camille Bidan, the protagonist in Zeta Gundam. For all intents and purposes, it is an addition to the brain's normal functioning that allows Quatre to act as a physical empath.

Ok, that's it from me. Review if you would like, I hope you enjoyed. -Wraith


	5. The Mysterious Boxes of the Mind

Sorry this took so long for me to update. School is evil, that's all I have to say. I also apologize for the fact that I seem to have a voracious proliferance of OCs, but for the story's purpose, they're needed. I hope they are somewhat likeable. Ok, I don't own Gundam Wing.

* * *

After a hastily taken shower, Adrienne found herself again at L4's principal hospital. She'd made sure she phoned Kyle before her departure from the Winner residence, as Iria had been so kind to offer her a room, and checked in on her other charges. Kyle said there wasn't anything interesting happening at Lake House, and that she needed to get back soon to save Sam from boredom.

The thought brought a smile to her face as she walked through the automatic double doors of the ER. The smile faded as she remembered why she was there.

An orderly was on rounds, so she quickened her pace to catch up to him.

"Excuse me. I'm here to meet with Dr. Winner, do you know where I may find her?" she asked.

The orderly smiled, and reached for the phone on the wall. "Sure thing, miss. What was your name?"

"Adrienne McAlistair."

The orderly spoke to the operator, and nodded.

"She's in the 5th floor conference room. You've been expected. Do you know the way?"

Adrienne admitted she did not, and he directed her to the nearest elevator. "It will be just down the hall from there." Thanking the orderly, she nodded and began her search for the elevator.

* * *

"So where exactly have you been?" Trowa asked out of the blue. He and Heero had been waiting for Adrienne to arrive, and Trowa's curiosity got the better of him.

"Why do you ask?" Heero countered, raising an eyebrow.

"Well for one, you never call." Trowa's face remained impassive, but the corners of his mouth ticked slightly upward.

Heero laughed, a sound that was more natural now than it had been. "Would you have called me had you known the number?"

Trowa smirked. "Point." He said nodding. "But where have you been? You just appeared here yesterday,"

"I've been at L5. There's a need for construction Leo operators, and I figured my particular talents suited that need."

"So you've been building and repairing colonies?"

"Yep."

Trowa nodded. "So how did you know Quatre was in trouble?"

Heero shook his head. "You expect me to answer that?"

"Well, I know it's not because you're an empath."

Heero chuckled again. "I've been keeping up on all of you through a list of contacts. One of them happens to work here. When Quatre came in with unusual symptoms, I contacted Sally Po. Figured she may be of some help,"

"You're thorough, as usual." Sally remarked, entering the conference room. "I just ran through a list of case studies on Newtypes. I hope you two boys are planning on sticking it out with us?" she asked, tossing an auburn braid over her shoulder.

The twin nods answered for the young men.

"I believe I saw Lady Catalonia visiting Quatre. Should I get her, too?" Sally asked.

This elicited a rather unique response from Trowa. "Dorothy's here?" His jade eyes softened slightly. "No, leave her with Quatre. She'll be good to keep him company."

Sally furrowed her eyebrows slightly, but didn't push the issue.

"I'm sorry I'm late!" Adrienne called, rushing in.

"Nonsense. You're just on time. Sorry we woke you," Sally greeted with a smile. "Iria is on her way. She'll be right in."

As if on cue, the eldest Winner entered the room. "Oh, we're all here." She said, sounding surprised. Everyone seated themselves while she played with some files she'd brought in. "Well, lets get going then. What do we know?"

Adrienne raised her hand. "Just a moment, Iria. Are we going to talk about why you want me to bring Renee in here for an MRI?"

Iria put her hand in her lab coat pocket. "Yes, we are. But I want to go over a few things before we get to that."

Adrienne nodded, and leaned back in the chair she'd taken, pacified for the moment.

"Now, as I was saying, what do we know? Sally?" Iria asked.

Sally sifted through a pile of notes on the table before her. "Well, I asked the Preventers to send me any information; case files, scans, medical histories, et cetera, on Newtypes. What we have could be called sketchy at best," she admitted. "As far as we know, Terra born Newtypes are rare, perhaps one out of every 30 or so. Interestingly enough, as far as the Preventer's database goes, Quatre is the only Newtype in his class."

"His class? What exactly does that entail?" Trowa asked, brushing dust from the sleeve of his black turtleneck.

"It means that he's the only Newtype with a Bidan region on his amygdala. At least in the records." Heero replied. "Correct?"

Sally nodded. "Quite right Heero. Most other Newtypes have their Bidan regions in one area." She pulled out a large poster and hooked it to the dry-erase board. "Here, in the cerebellum, where it produces increased kinesthetic abilities and awareness." She said, pointing to the mini-brain looking thing at the back of the brain. "Like I said before, Quatre's is on his amygdala. It may be what is causing his near empathic abilities; I'm not quite sure. But as it is located there, it raises a few questions."

"Those being?" Heero asked, standing and pacing about the table.

"Well, for one, what happened to him to cause it?" Iria explained.

Adrienne nodded. "Yes, I recall reading a case study on a Newtype once. I believe the young man nearly drifted off into deep space. The experience was believed to have triggered a change in the brain to compensate for the traumatic experience, and as a result, he became on of the better Taurus pilots the colonies had."

"Wait, back up." Trowa requested. "You're saying that something has to happen for the Bidan region to manifest itself?"

Iria frowned and crossed her arms. "That's what it's looking like." She shrugged. "Which is why I didn't mention this to him."

The hair on the back of Heero's neck rose. His face remained impassive, but his tone suggested otherwise. "He doesn't know?"

Iria raised an eyebrow. "It isn't life threatening, so no. He doesn't know he has it. I never told him."

"Why? For what reason would you do that?" Trowa demanded, startling Sally and Adrienne. His calm was damaged, and his concern for Quatre started to build. What right did Iria Winner have to hide this information from her baby brother? From his friend?

"Trowa, calm down." Iria snapped. "I did it because I don't know how long it's been there. I didn't even know he had the gene that causes the mutation.(1) Add on top of that, it would require me to raise several very interesting questions, questions I'd sooner avoid."

"In other words, you'd have to ask what happened." Heero monotoned. "I fail to see why that would be a problem."

"Can you think of something that would cause enough emotional trauma to cause this kind of reaction?" Iria asked, doubting an answer.

The boys surprised her. "ZERO system." They chimed in unison.

Trowa brushed his bangs from his eyes. "He nearly killed me when he was in Zero, and he destroyed two colonies. If that isn't enough trauma for you, I don't know what would qualify."

Sally placed a finger on her lower lip. "That could have done it."

Heero nodded, brushing brown hair from his eyes. "I believe he built Zero just after your father was killed, Iria. Perhaps that triggered the, gene, did you say?"

"Perhaps," Iria looked pensive. "And yes, it is a gene. A very rare recessive trait that just manifested itself since humanity's move to space." She explained.

Adrienne spoke up, ceasing her silence. "I don't know about the ZERO system or whatever, but I doubt that did it."

Four sets of eyes turned on the psychologist. "If it were based on his results with that system, wouldn't anyone who came in contact with it have the same symptoms as Quatre?"

Heero nodded slowly. "You have a point. If it were based entirely on his reaction to Zero, Wu Fei, Duo and I would all be showing empathic awareness. Yet, none of us do."

"Least of all, Wu Fei." Sally added with a chuckle. She regained her serious tone. "But that does still leave us without an answer. It also doesn't help us understand why it suddenly got a lot bigger."

Iria shook her head. "It's probably because you don't have the gene. As far as I know, very few individuals have it." She turned to Adrienne. "Adrienne, you said you didn't know why Renee acts the way she does, correct? Is there a possibility that she went through some kind of emotional trauma, and hasn't spoken about it? And with that in mind, perhaps when Quatre went to help her, he received some kind of psychic boost?" Iria asked.

Adrienne bit her lip. "I honestly don't know. For all I know, Renee could just have a bit of a schizoid type disorder. We did your average CT scan, and didn't see any fluid regions that were larger than normal, but that isn't the only indicator of schizophrenia." She shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. She won't talk to me, and I haven't had time to get through to her."

"What if he did get some kind of . . . boost, I guess, from Renee? Would that mean she may be an empath as well?" Trowa asked. He looked around the room at all three adults. "Would it not be worth it to at least investigate this further?" He focused a stern, jade eye on Adrienne. "Adrienne?" he asked.

Iria held up a hand. "Let's not attack each other. I'm not going to force Adrienne to allow us to scan Renee." She stared down Trowa's glare. "But I also think something needs to be done. We'll start with something rather simple." She said, gathering her papers.

"And what would that be?" Heero asked, standing.

"We'll go ask Quatre if he can think of anything that may fit our 'trauma' description." She replied.

"I have one more question." Trowa stated, remaining seated. All eyes fell on the boy. "Does anyone else in your family have traits like Quatre?"

* * *

Hala(2) Winner meticulously tended to the flowers in the garden. With her platinum hair and sea green eyes, she was an oddity among the Winner siblings for so closely resembling her mother. She also happened to be the closest to dear Quatre's age.

She gently pruned the carnations, and seemed to be the image of tranquility. But her mind was a tempest of thoughts, distracted from the task of deadheading the flowers.

'What has happened to Quatre?' she thought. She'd felt her brother's pain from across the distances, and worried for its lack of a source. Oh, she'd longed to visit him, but kept a respectful distance to allow Iria time to heal him.

'If he would let her do so,' she thought wistfully, the corners of her mouth curving slightly upward, showing ghosts of dimples. The smile faded quickly.

The near telepathic bond she'd created with her little brother had been their secret. Something no one in the family knew of, but something that had formed after she'd been returned after a long, terrifying kidnaping. Only Quatre had gotten to her to talk about it, and when she discovered he, too, had the space heart, she clung to him, as he did to her. But the two of them kept their closeness a secret, their powers something of a mystery to the rest of the family.

Until now.

Hala bit her lip. What would happen now that Iria knew? Would the eldest Winner investigate the rest of the family as well? She hoped not.

'I'll pick Quatre a flower, and visit him. He'll know what to do,' she said to herself, taking a pink carnation.

* * *

"So how are things at the university, Dorothy?" Quatre asked. "Are you still enjoying your studies?"

Dorothy shrugged, noncommital. "Oh, I suppose. They rather bore me at the moment. To study the machinations of a system you know too well can do that," she admitted.

Quatre smiled. "So your work as an up and coming political major isn't what you expected?"

She chuckled, her eyes flashing behind blond lashes. "Oh, nonsense, my dear Quatre. I happen to be the top of my class. I just find the studies to be under my par."

Quatre nodded. Dorothy had been studying at Yale's premier pre-political(3) school for the past year, and had been given high marks in achievement. Which was to be expected of the daughter of Duke Dermail.

"So how did you know I was here? Did Iria contact you?" he asked. "I thought she wasn't fond of you."

Dorothy laughed bitterly. "Quatre, if that is your way of saying that your sister detests the fact that I have any contact with you, then yes, you are correct." She shook her head. "And no, Iria didn't contact me. It was Hala."

Quatre's eyebrows rose. "Hala." He whispered. He hadn't expected her to know Dorothy. He hadn't introduced the two of them. But then again, Hala's bond with him was special. She would have known who to contact.

"I didn't even know you had a sister named Hala," Dorothy admitted. "But she was a kind girl. She looks rather like you."

Quatre nodded. "That she does. We're the two rare Winners who don't take after our father."

Dorothy nodded in understanding. She sighed, and sat down on the edge of his hospital bed.

"Do you remember when we first met after the war?" she asked suddenly.

He furrowed his eyebrows. "Right after? Or the Epee match?"

"Epee match? Oh, no. Right after."

Quatre nodded. "I do. Why do you ask?"

"No reason. Nothing other than to remind you that I still blame you for making me soft." She teased.

He raised an eyebrow in reply. "You were always kind, Dorothy. You just needed to see it."

Dorothy had met Quatre just after the Barton conflict ended. She'd spoken with him on her thoughts about the events of the Libra battle. They'd parted ways, him to destroy Sandrock, her to prepare herself for an Epee rematch with him.(4) He'd won, and slowly a friendship developed over many matches and time.

She rolled her eyes. "Quatre Raberba Winner. When will you ever learn that I love to tease you without mercy?"

Quatre's teeth showed as he grinned. "Probably never, Dorothy Catalonia. Just as you will probably forever be able to trap me in that."

"You were always slow to learn." A soft alto voice interrupted.

The two blonds turned to face a third standing in the doorway. Hala Winner held out the carnation.

"I brought something to cheer you up," she said with a smile.

Dorothy surrendered her seat on Quatre's bed, opting for the rolling chair she'd previously occupied.

Hala graciously took Dorothy's seat, and smiled at the younger girl. "You must be Dorothy, then." She extended a slight hand. "Nice to meet you."

Dorothy accepted it, noting how very similar in structure the girl was to her brother. Perhaps that explained the strange closeness she'd felt as soon as Hala entered the room.

"I'm pleased to meet you as well. And glad that your oldest sibling's vociferous dislike of my character hasn't completely turned the Winner clan against me." Dorothy said.

Hala chuckled. "No, not all of us are as distrusting as Iria. But she's just being protective of little Quatre," she said, ruffling his hair. He crinkled his nose and attempted to smooth it as she went on. "Though it probably didn't help that you stabbed him the first time your name was mentioned."

Dorothy blushed. "Quite true. I can't fault her there."

Quatre shook his head. "I'm sure she'll be over it eventually. I am!"

Hala laughed. "That you are, brother. But you also forgive and forget rather quickly." Or perhaps not forget, she thought to herself, her mood darkening slightly.

He laid a hand upon hers. "Thank you, Hala, for coming. It's good to see you."

"As it is to see you."

* * *

The group that had previously been in the conference room was greeted by a proliferation of blond hair upon entry to Quatre's suite.

"Hala!" Iria exclaimed. "How nice to see you." She nodded curtly to Dorothy, but extended no such greeting, her animosity for the girl barely concealed.

"I'm sorry to kick you all out, but I need to talk to Quatre. Alone." Iria stated. The two young women by Quatre's side, exchanged glances and nodded.

"We'll be outside," Hala reassured Quatre. He nodded in reply.

After everyone had been successfully shooed out of the room, Iria crossed her arms and began her explanations. She informed Quatre of his situation, and of the deliberations that she, Sally, and Adrienne had gone through.

"So you're going to scan Renee?" Quatre asked as his sister finished. He worried for the mysterious girl, and hoped that something hadn't happened to her as a result of his actions.

Iria nodded. "Yes, we are." She sat down in the chair next to Quatre's bed. "But first, I have a difficult question for you, Quatre."

He looked confused, but nodded for her to continue.

"You have the Newtype gene, and the Bidan region. Now, I explained the only way it can form is through severe trauma. So my question is, can you think of anything that may have caused it. Getting shot? The Zero system?" she inquired, searching for an explanation.

"No. I don't think Zero did it, and neither did anything during the war." He admitted. "I honestly can't think of anything that may have happened to cause it." He held her gaze, and she nodded, accepting his answer as fact.

"Well, if you can think of anything, let me know. I'll be busy scanning Renee." She rose and left the room.

Quatre's expression did not change the entire time she spoke with him, but deep within his mind, from a large box he'd kept secured for a long time, something escaped. Something that frightened him very much.

* * *

Yes, I know, I always seem to leave things at cliff hangers. Blame my muse. Ok, now for the Author's notes.

1. After talking with Terra about the story, I decided to go with the idea that a gene can cause the mutation. In theory, it would be a way for an organism to cope with stress, and would help it prevent circumstances which caused the stress in the first place, as is explained in the story.

2. Assumed to be the 2nd youngest Winner sibling, about 20 now, to Quatre's 19. Her name means 'halo around the moon' in Arabic.

3. Ok, so I made this up. But wouldn't you think in the future there'd be a school for people who wish to be life long politicians?

4. I figured that Dorothy and Quatre would settle their differences after a symbolic rematch of fencing. I don't know where that idea wormed itself into my head, but I liked it so it stayed.

Ok, well, that's it from me. Review if you so desire. Thanks to all my readers!

-Wraith


	6. Stargazer Lilies

A/N I don't own this...

Sorry I took so long to update. It's been nearly a year now, and working on the other story made me wish to do some work on this piece. I don't even know if I'll have a reading base anymore, but I hope that if there are still those out there who liked the original, that you like the changes I made to it. I'm going in a slightly different direction than I thought. Mainly because I forgot the original direction. Oops. Anyways, enjoy, and review if you wish. And if you have any stories you want me to review for you, drop me a message and I'll try to do it over Christmas break.

* * *

Iria knew that Quatre was hiding something from him. He'd always been a fairly good liar, but the fact that she could detect that something might be up was rather telling. As a child, he'd always been able to get away with things because he could act rather well. In fact, more often than not, he would get away with stealing cookies from the cooks or accidentally breaking things in the house right under the noses of all the adults. But, usually, he would feel terrible about it afterwards, and tended to admit to his little tales.

'Not that I'm not hiding anything from him,' she thought grimly as she continued down the halls toward where Renee was being held. The girl was conscious, and sitting up, looking a bit like a deer in the headlights of a rapidly approaching car.

'Oh great.' Though Iria. "Lie back down, honey. It's ok."

"No tests."

Iria started. The scratchy voice was not at all expected.

"What did you say?" She asked, looking the girl in the eyes for the first time. But Renee was silent again, still looking scared. Iria checked, and noticed that someone had attached a sedative to Renee's IV, but hadn't turned in on. She turned the dial, and the slow dripping seemed to startle the girl yet again.

Renee began to twist and turn in her bed, forcing Iria to hold her down. "It's ok, it's ok. We're not going to hurt you. You're safe here, Renee. . ."

* * *

Quatre did a lot of thinking on the drive home from the hospital with Hala. He replayed his conversation with Iria over in his head again and again, and only found that he didn't know as much as he felt he needed.

For one, Iria didn't exactly go into detail about exactly what the Bidan region was. Or even how it formed. In fact, he had never even heard of it. Nor this newtype gene. Dorothy may have mentioned it once or twice, but only in passing. Plus, it always seemed to be in reference to a few of Romefeller's less desirable studies that it conducted while in power, and she tended to refrain from talking about them. So what exactly was Iria talking about?

"We're almost home, Quatre." Hala said softly, breaking into his thoughts.

"Oh, thank you, Hala." He replied, sounded a bit startled.

Hala smiled to herself. She knew that Quatre had a lot on his mind, but it was still nice to have him home. He hadn't been home since their father had died, and things tended to get lonely around the house.

"You probably want to clean up a bit," Hala offered. "If you'll wait a bit, I can have someone fix up your old room."

Quatre nodded absently. "That would be fine, Hala. Thank you."

Home wasn't the happiest place to be for Quatre. He'd always felt slightly like an outsider at the large manor, a feeling that wasn't helped by the steadily degrading relationship he'd had with his father, up until the elder Winner had been killed.

'Still,' Quatre admitted to himself. 'Not all of that was father's fault. He was a very angry man after mother died, and I knew exactly how to push his buttons. Becoming a gundam pilot was the last straw for him.'

The truth about Ahmed Winner's feelings toward his only son were died with him. Quatre had, for most of the time he was on Earth, wished for an opportunity to reconcile with his father. There were many things the two of them needed to discuss, but now all opportunities were lost, and Quatre was left with a perpetual sense that something was unresolved. The feeling tended to manifest itself in many ways, the least of all the feeling of guilt that tended to crop up whenever he had to visit the Winner estate. Which did explain why prior to Hala driving him there from the hospital, he hadn't been to his childhood home for at least 3 years.

But as things tend to be when people leave their ancestral homes for an extended period of time, it was the things that hadn't changed that stood out to Quatre, not the things that had.

The beautiful cobblestone walkway that he and his father had spent many hours working on still led up to the manor from the circular drive. Just over the hedges, he could see the late blooming sunflowers that Hala and his other sister Aaliyah were so fond of planting. Even the carnations that Hala faithfully tended were the same colour of pink that she'd worked so hard to create.

"Not much has changed around here, has it?" He asked as Hala pulled up to the house.

Hala shook her head. "Not particularly. With all of us spread out over the colonies and Earth, it's quieter, but that's about it." She looked down at her lap as she turned off the car. "I tried to keep it how it was before father died." She admitted quietly.

Quatre looked down as well. "I know," he said, even though he hadn't known. Tentatively, he lay a hand on her shoulder. "It looks great, Hala." He added, giving her a supportive smile.

For the next hour or so, Quatre spent his time finding clothes that fit him and preparing to bathe. After a long, hot shower, he amused himself by finding that someone had set out the characteristic pink towels he'd known since he was a child.

'Why are they always pink?' he sighed to himself, chuckling. 'Couldn't they at least have one set of blue for me?' That situation would have been an ideal one, but when a family buys towels in bulk, and most of the family is of the female persuasion, the lone male must suffer through the various stages of being the sole masculine figure in a house drowning estrogen.

Dressing in an uncharacteristic dark blue, Quatre set off to find Hala. She was reading in the study.

"I might have known that you'd be here," Quatre teased.

Hala smiled at him, her sea foam green eyes shining. "Well, this is the only room in the house where the books are kept, so, duh!" She gave him a teasing look to match her tone. "Of course I'd be here."

Quatre shook his head and laughed. "Just like the house, you don't change a bit, do you, Hala?"

"I try to make a point not to," she replied, faux haughtily. "You best be careful, brother dear. You do know that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results." She gave him a slight wink.

Quatre grinned. "That would explain why work is hell." He stood up. Despite the kind banter between the two of them, there was still something about being in the house that bothered him. His stomach felt a little fluttery, and for some reason he couldn't bring himself to sit down.

"I'm going to take a walk. Are the gardens still in bloom?" He asked.

Hala nodded. "You should know that. It's only late summer according to the colony's weather system." She replied, reopening her book.

Of course, Quatre did know. He merely wanted to see if Hala would accompany him. Yet seeing that she was engrossed in her book, he figured that maybe it would be best to walk alone. Besides, it would give him time to think.

Quatre left the house through the back veranda, and sought the cobblestone pathway. He smiled, noting that even after seven years of time, it looked fairly well intact. Oh, how he'd loathed the idea of doing it when his father told him of the project!

The elder Winner had always liked doing things himself.

"Makes sure that it gets done right the first time." He liked to tell Quatre.

Only Quatre didn't quite believe him yet. He was still young, and even at age 12, their relationship was beginning to deteriorate. It was around that time that he'd learned that he was tubed, and had started to get a complex about his expendability.

'Which was ludicrous, of course!' Quatre thought as he wandered the path. 'Mom wasn't alive, and father wasn't remarrying, so it wasn't like I was all that replaceable.'

A familiar scent reached his nostrils. Pausing to try and identify its source, he realized that just around the bend were some massive Stargazer lilies. His favourite.

"Wow, you've gotten big!" He exclaimed aloud. The lilies, which when he'd left only grew to be about two feet tall were now encroaching six in height. The beautiful pink and white blossoms covered every inch of the stalks. Quatre closed his eyes and breathed deeply of their sweet, but tangy scent. Memories swirled about his head of days before the war.

And suddenly, a new memory cropped up. One that he'd never thought of before.

In his mind's eye, he saw a small cluster of stargazers in a quaint little plot. Behind them was the side of a small, white house; a house that he didn't readily recognize. He saw his hands gently gripping a watering can, and felt the chill of cold coming from its old, tin exterior. There was a commotion behind him, and a sound that was reminiscent of silenced gunshots. Then he felt two massive hands grab his thin arms from behind, and everything went black. . .

* * *

When Quatre woke, he found himself still in front of the stargazers. He didn't know quite what happened, but he did remember the strange vision/memory. Yet, at the same time, he didn't.

The memory itself was very real. Almost to the point that it was painfully real. However, nothing like that had ever happened to Quatre before. And while Hala had been kidnaped when he was 8, the circumstances weren't the same. No one had been killed when she was taken. And certainly he hadn't seen that house before.

Yet in some annoying way, it was still familiar. The house, the flowers, everything. He felt that he had seen it before. It was a maddening sensation. One equivalent to an itch on one's tongue. He knew something was wrong, but couldn't yet figure out why he knew that the memory could not possibly be his.

Shaking his head and brushing the dirt off of him, he bolted back toward the manor

'I have to talk to Iria. There's something she isn't telling me, and I think it might explain this.' He thought.

Slamming the back door open, something very uncharacteristic of him, he ran to find Hala. He met her as she came out of the study.

"I heard the door slam. Is everything ok?" she asked, looking concerned.

Quatre was slightly out of breath, but managed to say get the idea across that he was fine.

"I need to borrow a car." He said, breathlessly. "I need to talk to Iria right away."

Hala's eyes filled with concern. "Is something the matter? Do you think you're having another attack?" She asked, placing a small hand on his forehead.

He smiled and gently removed her hand. "No, nothing like that. I just need to talk to her. I have a few questions for her that I'd really like answered."

* * *

Having gotten a hold of the keys to the shiny blue car in the family garage, Quatre found himself calming down as he sped away from home. The cool leather of the seats, and the feeling of control he had over the manual transmission were somehow relaxing. Or was it the increasing distance from home? He wasn't sure.

Soon enough, however, the hospital loomed into view, and Quatre found himself a parking spot in the visitor's lot. He walked briskly to the door, but stopped and politely held the door for an elderly woman. She smiled at him, and he returned it in kind.

Once inside, however, he was all business. He asked for Iria's location. Getting it, he moved quickly. Up the stairs. Through the double doors. Down the hallway. He was feeling agitated, so he had to refrain from running. Yet, he knew that it was safer that way, just in case any patients were in the hallway. He didn't want to accidentally injure someone in his haste.

Finally, his destination was in view. The double doors to the conference room were closed, but that didn't stop him. He slowed a moment to catch his breath, and quietly opened the door.

Inside the room, he could see Trowa, Heero and Adrienne facing a screen.

"Quatre!"

* * *

Quatre was nearly bowled into the hallway by a flying black object with a braid. Duo Maxwell's greeting surprised the others in the conference room as much as it did Quatre.

"OOF! Duo! Hi! Ow! Ow! Duo, love, Quatre can't breath!"

"Duo. Get off of him." Heero ordered.

The others in the room looked on bemused, if surprised to see Quatre.

Iria was the first to speak. "I didn't think you'd be around. I thought you were resting."

"I felt restless," he admitted, taking a seat beside Adrienne. "So I figured I'd see how everyone was doing." He looked suspiciously around the room at the moment, noting that few people, save Duo were meeting his eyes. "Anyone want to fill me in on what you're all here for?"

The atmosphere of the room had a congealing occur as Quatre asked the question. The air seemed somewhat thicker, and tension seemed to have replaced light banter.

Quatre began to bounce his legs. He always hated it when others became agitated. Their emotions as well as his own were becoming unbearable.

"Anyone quick before we explode?" Duo asked, attempting to joke. "I'd like to know why ya'll called me out here as well."

Adrienne looked to Iria. She alone seemed to have any answers. "Iria?"

Iria glanced down at the files in front of her, and then directly at Quatre. She sighed. "I suppose it is best that you are here as well, Quatre." Quatre tried to mask his surprise, and said nothing. Taking that as a good sign, she continued.

"I just finished several scans on Renee, the girl you brought in with you. And I found a lot of odd things."

"Odd?" Trowa asked. "Such as?"

"I'll get to that. But first, I need- no, want- to talk about Quatre."

Quatre cocked his head to one side. "Me? Why me?" A thought dawned on him, and his question that he'd been wanting answered resurfaced. "Is this about that Bidan region you mentioned?"

Iria was silent a moment. Without a word, she grabbed a computer disk from on of the files and inserted it into the projector on the table.

"Yes, Quatre. It is about that." She admitted. She activated the projector, and brought up a CT scan image.

"Right here, actually, is yours." She said, taking out a laser pointer and placing it on the almond shaped amygdala. "It's on your amygdala."

"It's on his amy-ga-dala? What is that?" Duo asked.

Iria opened her mouth, but it was Heero who answered first. "The amygdala is the emotion center in the brain. It is what controls fear, anger, love, aggression. I assume," he continued. "That because Quatre has a Bidan region there, it explains why he has shown empathic tendencies in the past?"

Iria nodded. Adrienne looked impressed. "How did you know all of that?" She asked.

"Part of mine was disabled by the doctors."

Trowa nodded in agreement. "Its why Heero isn't afraid of anything. His sense of fear was removed."

"But we digress." Heero interrupted. "You were saying, Doctor?"

"Wait." Quatre interjected. "How long has this been there?"

Iria bit her lip. Quatre's tried to get a sense of her emotions, and found that, as usual, she was guarding them very closely.

"Iria. Tell him." Adrienne ordered.

"I've known about it since you came in before dad died, Quatre." Iria admitted.

Quatre's eye twitched slightly. "That long?" He asked quietly.

"Yes, and there are indications that it's been there a bit longer than that."

Quatre closed his eyes and leaned back, trying to think. At the moment, the only thing he could feel was an overwhelming sense of anger. Yet, it was neither the time nor place to lash out at Iria.

"So what about it now?" Dorothy asked, making her presence known for the first time since the meeting began.

Iria made a valiant attempt to not scowl. She switched images. "It's gotten bigger- I don't know how or why- but it has."

"Our theory," Adrienne added. "Is that it has something to do with what happened between you and Renee."

"Which would make sense, considering what I found when I scanned her brain." Iria added. She pressed the image toggle a third time, and a new image formed.

"WHAT THE HELL?" Adrienne yelled. "What is that?"

The image on the screen was not at all similar to Quatre's. While there was an obvious presence of a Bidan region on her amygdala, another mass had formed over top of her frontal cerebral cortex.

"I don't know what it is, but that isn't the worrisome part." Iria admitted. "This is."

Her laser pointer moved to highlight several grooves in the new region.

"Are those. . . what I think they are?" Adrienne seethed.

"They appear to be lesions. Curious." Trowa observed.

"Lesions?" Dorothy asked.

"Quite literally, someone has been cutting on her brain." Heero monotoned.

"WHAT?!?" Quatre yelled, unable to contain his sudden anger.

Duo looked sick. "God. Who would do that?"

"That's what I am here to find out." A new voice echoed from the back of the room. All heads turned to see Sally Po leaning against the doorpost.

"Sally Po." Trowa greeted.

Quatre looked back and forth between Iria and Sally. "The Preventers are involved?"

Sally nodded. "They are now that it looks like she's been experimented on."

A collective shudder passed through the room, and Duo turned a rather interesting shade of green.

Adrienne and Quatre looked betrayed.

"How long have you known, Iria?" Adrienne hissed. "How long?"

"Less than a day. Just long enough for Sally to get on the first shuttle out."

Quatre didn't know what to say. A constant pressure was forming in his chest, and a slight headache was starting to arch over from the back of his neck to his temple. The flare was building again.

"So what are we going to do about this?" He asked, almost inaudibly.

"We're going to do some searching." Sally said. "From the Preventer files to the old Romefeller files, if we can crack the codes."

"I may be able to help you with that," Dorothy said. "My grandfather entrusted me with several codes that may work on some of the files. Otherwise, I'll work with someone in the colonies to try and get into the files he kept on the moon."

Duo, still looking ill, spoke up as well. "I can access the Sweeper group files, see if anything comes up. Maybe give Dorothy a hand." Dorothy nodded her thanks.

"Would Treize have any hand in this?" Heero asked, giving Dorothy a withering stare.

She weathered it well. "No." She said, shaking her head. "He loved people, and that definitely would count as a way to hurt them. He had no part in this."

"Then that would put our time line after the OZ coup then." Trowa said. "Anything before that, and Treize would have quashed it."

"Unless he didn't know," Quatre added quietly, looking at Adrienne.

He still felt very ill, and angry. And he was fairly certain that the headache was only going to get worse. Why would someone do that to Renee? Or to any other human at all?!

"Then it's decided." Sally interrupted. "I'll head back to Earth and see what I can do with Wu Fei and the Preventers. Dorothy and Duo will work with the Sweeper group files and the moon base data."

"Could Relena possibly help?" Trowa asked, directing his question at Heero.

For a moment, Heero looked surprised. "Actually, I haven't spoken to her in months."

Duo rolled his eyes. "We know that. We also know you play bodyguard to her. Trowa wants to know if there are any government files she may know about that the Preventers don't."

"I know that, Duo. I will get on it."

"Then let's hurry. I don't know if these groups are still around or not, but time is of the essence." Sally ordered. "If you'll excuse us, Doctor, I'll need to talk to the others except for you."

Iria nodded. "I understand. I'll continue to go over my scans at let you know my results."

Without a word to Quatre, she left the room.

As Sally began to brief the others, Quatre leaned over to Adrienne.

"Adrienne," he whispered.

"Yes?"

"I think I know what happened to Renee."

"How?" She asked.

"I think, I could be wrong, but, I think that I somehow got her memories." He admitted.

"How is that even possible? I don't know about this Bidan region or anything, but memory transfer?"

Quatre bit his lip. It would be hard to believe for him, had someone been suggesting what he was about to.

"I think that she might have some sort of telepathy. And if I'm not mistaken, she was taken a long time before the period that the others are going to be looking." he admitted.

"What are you going to do about it?" She asked, eyeing him strangely.

Quatre had to pause. He hadn't given it much thought, but some answers come quickly.

"I'm going to talk to her some. And then I'm going to find the bastards that did this to her." He said quietly, letting his words resonate with the anger he was feeling.

"I'm going to make them pay."

* * *

Good changes? Bad? Indifferent? Anyways, happy holidays people.

-Wraith


	7. Cold Fire

A/N

Well, for the about 50 odd of you who have actively kept up with this so far, this is for you. I'm sorry I take so long to get stuff updated. Freaking work killed me over christmas break, so it didn't really exist for me. I know I should be doing Homework, but who really wants to do that anyways? As always, reviews and thoughts are nice even if they aren't public reviews and are just personal messages with suggestions. I apologize if anyone has sent me review requests recently if I haven't gotten to your stories. I will eventually. I hope...

As always, I don't own any of this. I don't really even want to claim the OCs. And there will be a few footnotes, sorry if you hate them...

* * *

The cold fire that had kindled in Quatre's chest continued to smoulder as he and Adrienne made their way down the tight corridors of the hospital. While the coals that shimmered with an icy glow in his chest didn't lend to the most comforting sensation on the planet, it did provide an excellent distraction from the varied emotions and ailments that floated around the hospital.

Since he had been small, Quatre's family had always taken great pains to minimize his contact with hospitals. The suffering of the patients and the worry of the family members tended to overwhelm him as a boy, and as a result, it was a rare occasion that Quatre was actually present at a relative's deathbed. However, as time passed and he trained himself to shut out most of the heavier emotions, Quatre was able to enter into the hospital atmosphere without too much discomfort. However, being in the hospital did leave him with the annoying sensation of always having a dull roar just outside one's ear, and he usually had to resort to painkillers to rid himself of lingering headaches.

Yet, for the moment, the roar had ceased, and only a bitter calm settled over him. Adrienne said little as she led Quatre to Renee's room. She kept sending him puzzled expressions, but always remained silent and pensive looking. Quatre didn't express it, but he was grateful for her lack of inquiry into his thoughts. He just wasn't in quite the right state of mind as of yet to fully explain himself.

Passing a man on a bio-bed, Quatre thought for a moment he'd snagged his shirt on the corner of the bed. Turning, he realized the man had gripped his shirt corner.

"Please," the man begged. "Please get the nurse." He groaned. "Need something for the pain."

Quatre's eyes flashed a moment in irritation, but a small melting sensation fell over him. Gently, he reached around the man's head and found a contact point on his neck. He winced slightly as the yellow rush flowed from his fingers to his own nervous system, but it was not terrible. Just feeling something again was a relief.

Adrienne arced an eyebrow at him, but said nothing.

"Sorry about that," Quatre apologized as he rejoined her.

Adrienne smiled slightly. "No problem at all. I felt like I was intruding on something, even if I have been dying to see you do that." She admitted sheepishly.

"Do what?"

"You know, do one of those emotion things. I know a few empathic individuals, but I've never seen them actually work on someone before." Adrienne admitted.

"Oh," Quatre replied. He hadn't thought about that. "It's nothing really!" He said, a bit flustered. The thought hadn't occurred to him when he was taking the man's pain that others may be watching.

Adrienne shook her head. "Right, nothing. Shall we continue?"

Quatre nodded and kept up with her steady pace. The corridor made a 't' and split into two respective hallways: one for intensive care, and one with a sign asking for quiet. Adrienne chose the 'quiet' path.

The blast of antiseptic and heavy green of illness bombarded Quatre as he passed through the doors. Glancing into one of the rooms, he realized that the woman in the bio-bed was connected to a life support system. The slow, steady beeping and flashing of the lights were the only signs of life from the room, save for the steady inhale/exhale sound emitted from the air machine. Was Renee in worse shape that he'd thought?

Adrienne must have caught his worried glance. "We didn't want to put her where there were a lot of people. We thought it best if she were in a quiet place. The CCU was the best place that Iria could suggest on such short notice," she explained, opening the only closed door that he'd seen in the entire hall.

Renee was sitting by the window, staring out into the garden courtyard that lay in the hospital's center. Her faintly red highlights shone in the artificial sunlight from the colony's interior.

"Renee, it's me and–" Adrienne started.

"The space heart." Came the cryptic reply. Renee's pale blue eyes settled on Quatre.

Quatre managed a forced smile, and nodded.

"He wants to ask me something." Renee added, never once blinking or breaking the gaze she held on Quatre.

Adrienne nodded. "Well . . . then I guess I'm not really needed here. Quatre, if you . . . " she trailed off.

Quatre nodded and squeezed Adrienne's shoulder. "I'll be fine and I'll let you know. Why don't you check on the rest of the crew and Trowa?"

Adrienne gave him one final nod before slipping out the door and shutting it behind her. Renee continued to stare at him, and Quatre found himself raising mental shields.

"You do remember my name, right?" He asked.

For the first time since he'd known her, Renee's expression changed. It went from her normal blank expression to an expression that suggested she wasn't dumb, and he was stupid for thinking so.

Quatre raised his hands in defeat. "I'm just saying. You've called me both 'Desert child' and 'space heart', but never my name."

"Because they suit you better than your name. Quatre, meaning 'four' in French. Four of what? Boys in the family? Children?" The grey eyes continued their probing. "You do not have any brothers, and many sisters. You are not 'four' of anything."

Quatre scratched his scalp just behind his bangs. This could be rather interesting.

"I am four of something. Rather, fourth.(1) I am the fourth generation male from my family to live in the colonies. Before that, my ancestors just funded the colonies and ran the companies that built them."

Renee blinked, apparently taken aback. "Yet right now, 'space heart' suits you best. You are seeking mysteries that may be better left untouched."

Quatre was getting annoyed with her perception. How did she know what he was thinking before he asked?

"Are you sure you want to unlock that mystery, space heart?"

Yes, dammit. "I think I can help you. I can't protect you from what happened, but I can prevent it from happening in the future." He admitted.

Renee turned away and gazed out the window. "I don't know if I can be." She whispered.

Quatre noticed the change as soon as it happened. The emotional defenses that Renee ran lowered slightly, and he inched closer.

"Renee, you can stay at my house. I can help you work through this," he said, kneeling beside her. 'And maybe we'll be able to get the bastards who hurt you.' He thought to himself.

"They'll kill me if you look."

What? How the? Quatre's mind whirled again. "How? How do you know what I am thinking?"

Renee rolled her eyes and gave him an annoyed look. "Your defenses are high, and you think you know the answer, you just don't let yourself know what it is. Boy you are stubborn."

The cryptic remark wasn't helping. He knew the answer? "You can sense my thoughts?" He offered.

Renee rolled her eyes and said nothing. Somehow, Quatre couldn't quite shake the feeling that her teasing 'Silly boy' was echoing around the room. Annoyed, he tried not to snap at her.

"Do you want me to help you?" He asked.

"Do you really want to open Pandora's box?"

Why always riddles? Of course, Quatre knew what Pandora's box was, he just wasn't following why she would say it about herself. What could be so deep and mysterious and dangerous about her?

"If you wish to aid me, we need some place safe. All of us. Including the children." She said finally. Quatre breathed a sigh. Finally, some progress.

"Ok," he said. "I'll work with Sally to find us somewhere we can go."

* * *

"We're going on a spaceship?" Zatters asked, gripping Quatre's hand as he allowed himself to be led down the gangway to the airlock.

Quatre felt his arm bounce and bend and nearly come out of its socket at the young boy's excitement. "Yes, Zat, we're going on one of the shuttles to Earth."

Zatters froze a moment. "We . . . we're not going with, with, with lots of people, are we?"

Quatre knelt down. "No, it's one of my own shuttles. It'll just be me, you, Kyle, Sam, Adrienne and Renee."

Zatters eyes lost their fear and bugged in amazement. "You own a shuttle?" he asked.

"It's your shuttle?" Kyle asked sardonically, clomping down the gangway. "Great, now we'll never make it to Earth."

Adrienne gave the unruly teen a playful swat to the back of the head. "And to think he was going to offer to let you pilot it for a while." She said.

"Yeah, then we'd really be in trouble if he does." Zatters piped up.

"Hush, Zat."

"Well, Quatre has flown it before!" Zatters was quick to Quatre's defense.

"Look, Zat, I'll believe it when we're on Earth. Provided we don't blow up along the way." Kyle retorted, slinging his bag over his shoulder and entering the airlock.

Adrienne shook her head. "If it weren't for Renee's insistence . . . " she trailed off.

Quatre lay a hand on her shoulder. "I'll be fine. He's still just feeling his oats about something or another."

Adrienne nodded. "We better get going," she said, watching Zatters run to the airlock. "I think I'll need to strap him in before he starts bouncing around the cockpit in zero G." she said, quickening her pace. The thought of the ten-year-old ball of energy bounding around the cockpit with exposed panels made Quatre wince internally, and he too hurried along.

Reaching the airlock, he made the leap from the artificial gravity plating to the zero gravity space of the shuttle dock on the colony. Floating was always one of his favourite sensations about space travel, and he had spent many a day in the docks just bounding around out of the way.

The shuttle he was using was smaller than most that the Winner Corp. owned. Heero had found it for him a few years back, and made some 'modifications' to it. Exactly what they were, Quatre didn't know. He was certain, however, that he didn't want to use them. Reaching the shuttle, he sealed the outer door, and was relieved to find that Zatters had been more fascinated by the large screen TV with video game console that Duo had placed in the shuttle than floating in Zero G.

Renee had already buckled herself in, as had Sam, and Adrienne was in the process of strapping Zatters in while the boy tried to see around her and play a game at the same time. Kyle was about to strap into the seat next to Renee when Quatre gripped his shoulder.

The anger created by the contact could have seared his hand if it registered in degrees.

Quatre raised an eyebrow. "Sorry. Look, I have a seat up front. I need your help up there."

"I've never flown a shuttle before." Kyle spat.

"Well, do you want to?" Quatre asked softly.

For a moment, the anger gave way to curiosity, then was quickly replaced by a look of indifference that dominated Kyle's expression. "Sure, whatever." He said, floating toward the cockpit.

Quatre held his sigh till Kyle was out of earshot, then followed him.

Grabbing the seat on the left, Quatre called up the main computer and started the main engines.

"The comm system is to your right," he said.

Kyle recognized the mike and pressed the power button. Having failed to turn down the volume, the sounds of a racing video game car filled the cabin, causing both occupants and Adrienne, who was entering the cockpit, to wince.

"Ach, hit F1."

Kyle pressed the button, and peaceful quiet settled over the air. "Why does it do that?" He demanded.

Quatre was asking himself the same thing. "Good question. I've never taken this shuttle out before."

Kyle gave him an incredulous look. "You've what?"

Quatre rolled his eyes. "See the frequency knob?" He asked. Kyle nodded. "Shift it to 1269 and pick up the mike." He ordered.

Kyle did as he was told.

Almost immediately, Trowa's voice filtered over the comm. "Shuttle_Endymion_, do you copy?"

Kyle gave Quatre a confused look.

"Try the button that says onscreen." Quatre offered.

Kyle did, and Trowa appeared on the small communication's screen that sat between the two command chairs.

"Quatre," Trowa greeted.

"Hey Trowa. Do you have our launch clearance?"

Trowa nodded, brushing his bangs out of the way of his eye. "Set your comm to 1583 and await for instructions."

Kyle set the comm to the preset channel, and waited.

"Shuttle_Endymion(2)_, you are clear for takeoff." A sight unseen controller said.

Kyle looked at Quatre. "Do you want me to do anything else?" He asked.

"Let him know we acknowledge."

Kyle fumbled with the mike a moment before speaking. "_Endymion_ here, thank you." He said, replacing the mike.

Quatre shook his head in amusement as Adrienne stifled a snicker. "Alright, hang on!" Quatre punched the main boosters as the shuttle rocketed down the colony's main launch rail. Slight gee-forces pressed against them as the colony struggled to keep the shuttle in its minute gravity well, but eventually the pressure subsided as the_Endymion_ shot into clear space.

* * *

Duo scratched his head again and pounded all the keys on the keyboard. Why the hell was this damn system so hard to get into?

"Hey toots, do you mind giving a man a hand?" he asked.

Dorothy gave him an exasperated look. "What is it now?" she asked frostily, walking over to his work station.

"I can't seem to get into this particular section. Your codes are no longer working." Duo admitted.

Dorothy frowned. "Grandfather was one of the highest ranking Romefeller officials. What do you mean the codes don't work?" Shoving Duo out of the way, she proceeded to rapidly type in several of the highest security codes that she'd discovered since his passing. Yet none of them were working. The hell?

"Holy shit, I don't know what you did, but we've got a problem!" Duo exclaimed from the computer over.

"What is it?" she demanded. Suddenly her computer began to fill with prime numbers and proceeded to crash. She swore ruthlessly, and Duo looked impressed.

"I think that wasn't supposed to happen." Duo said, frantically typing on his computer. "What the hell?" He asked aloud, looking puzzled. "How did that . . . " He trailed off as he continued to rapidly type new data into the computer.

"What happened?" Dorothy demanded, leaning over his shoulder.

"What were you searching under?" Duo asked.

"Human enhancement projects, why?"

"Because whatever you typed in caused a massive data surge and something scanned our computers."

"What?" Dorothy cried. "How? Who?"

"I don't know. I think it was embedded in the files. But whatever it was, it just scanned all the Preventers mainframe. It was like the fire walls weren't even there." Duo gave her a grim look. "Look, I can look to see what it was looking for, maybe, but it doesn't look good right now. Whoever made that just got access to all of the Preventers data."

Dorothy frowned. "I'll contact Sally."

* * *

The computer screen had been dark for a long time. Almost long enough for the occupants of the computer monitoring station to give up on it as a lost cause. But then data began to scroll and scroll and scroll.

The technician took one look at the information, and passed it onto their superiors. Within seconds the orders went out.

* * *

Kyle was actually fairly good at the controls, Quatre had to admit. Once they'd cleared colony airspace, he'd let Kyle take over. Within seconds, the boy was a bit different. He seemed more relaxed than he had been in a while, and Quatre left him to his thoughts while he piloted the _Endymion_.

"I might just take a snooze." Adrienne said with a yawn.

Quatre nodded. "There are two bedrooms on board. They're further back, but I'm sure you'll find them."

Adrienne nodded sleepily. "You be good Kyle."

"I'll try to avoid most of the asteroids." Came the sarcastic reply.

"I'm so reassured." Adrienne said, rolling her eyes and leaving. "Goodnight, boys."

No sooner had she left the door when a green light began flashing in front of Quatre, puzzled, he realized that the long range sensors were detecting something.

"Another shuttle?" Kyle asked.

Quatre gave him a look. "Figured out the sensors too, eh?" He asked.

Kyle nodded. "Not sure what type it is. It almost seems to be too small."

Quatre glanced at the display. The configuration did seem odd. He couldn't quite place it, but he was almost certain he'd seen a heat profile like it before. It was when it split into four pieces that the reality of it hit him.

"Dammit!" He swore. "Someone's found us!"

"What?!" Kyle roared, looking at the sensor readout. "What are they?"

Quatre ignored him for a moment. "I need you to press the red button in front of you."

"The one you said to not touch?"

"Yes, that one. And type in the code Omega 4."

Kyle did as he was told, and a small station rose out of the floor next to Quatre.

"What is that?" Kyle asked, eying the station greedily.

"Don't touch. Those are weapons. Believe me. We'll need them."

"What?!"

"That wasn't an ordinary shuttle. That thing was a Taurus carrier.

* * *

1. Sorta stretching it here with the whole 4th thing. Yeah, I am completely making crap up. Please no shooting for this.

2. The name Endymion means diver or rapid descent in Greek. That'll come up later, just so you know.

Again, R&R and most of all, enjoy!


End file.
